


sugar

by zukofenty



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, The Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady, Zutara Month, Zutara Month 2020, spiderman!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:29:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zukofenty/pseuds/zukofenty
Summary: There’s a former skateboarding photographer turned teenaged masked vigilante running around protecting the city from crime. Yet, Katara always knew she wasn’t meant to just sit a good fight out.“Did you just fucking slap me?” Zuko is incredulous, clutching his reddening man tit.“Yeah, what are you going to do about it? Be mad?” Katara bites back.
Relationships: Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74
Collections: Zutara Month 2020





	sugar

**Author's Note:**

> “Sugar” by Brockhampton is such a cute song omg <3 I also made a Zutara month playlist! 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0sCOaqE492ONZUu0HGKiDs?si=BB1OZs5gRfC73lnvlGMAsA

“Self care 2020 is officially over. We’re doing drugs again.” 

Suki stares at Katara quizzically. “No, I don’t think that’s how it goes.” 

“Are you sure?” Katara asks, puzzled. Suki just rolls her eyes, picking at her chipping manicure as Katara focuses on her biology homework. 

“It’s only been like two weeks into the New Year. Yeah, I’m sure,” Suki deadpans. “What makes you think that doing drugs again is remotely going to-” Her rant is abruptly cut off at the sound of commotion coming from the courtyard. “Fuck, not Jet again.” 

Katara jumps to her feet. _Not this bitch again_. Before she has to do more damage control than Camila Cabello’s publicist every time she opens her mouth and something stupid (and/or racist) for the 1000th time, Katara surveyed the scene before her. Freshman Aang, still prepubescent and so, so tiny was spared from having his face shoved in a moldy grilled cheese sandwich the cafeteria gave to kids who couldn’t afford lunch (yay public school!). He’s not facing Jet’s usual wrath inflicted on any short king 5’9” and under. Instead, a figure was gasping for air in an oversized black hoodie, hands clawing at Jet’s angular face. 

“Hey Jet!” Katara yelps, pulling the tall boy up by his belt loops. He pauses in pummeling Zuko’s oh so pretty face, and grins unabashedly at Katara. The smile she knows is only reserved for her. 

“Yes, Katara?” He smirks when he could almost hear pussies clench. He knows his power. 

She smiles back at him, making it almost reach her eyes. “I did a little research, and guess what?” 

“What?” 

She pushes her bangs from her eyes, looking so sweet and innocent in her blazer and her signature knee length boots. “You’re a whore. A dumb whore.” He can’t help but let anger paint his face. “Leave these damn kids _alone_! Don’t you have another class to ditch? A military program to join? A car to mod? Find a hobby. Go to therapy. Stupid.” 

Her hair flows whips around as quickly as she does, flowing and bouncing effortlessly as she heads to AP Chemistry. 

Zuko smiles, despite the pain in his chest from where Jet shoved his converse into. He thinks he loves her. Or what anti social kids like him thought love was because he doesn’t think she knows who he is. So polished and passionate about everything she does. Captain of the debate team, president of the Student Advocate’s club, and head intern at Phoenix Corporations in working on projects to mass clean polluted waters. She managed to do everything and still have kindness in her soul. The kind of love that you could almost feel surrounding a person. 

He decides he likes staring at her, even if it’s the back of her head during chemistry. It was too easy to fall in love, when she was yelling at him to photograph the debate club’s photos in a certain light so they could post it on their Facebook for student recruitment season. He manages to always trip on his laces every time he’s around her, or stumble on his skateboard when she sends a small smile his way as they pass each other in the hallway of Ba Sing Se Academy. It’s always worth the detention Principal Pakku serves his way, if it meant he could get her attention. 

In high school, guys like him and girls like her weren’t meant to be together. He’s impossibly clumsy, according to Uncle Iroh, and dangerously emo, according to everyone else. Katara, well she’s meant for bigger and better things, she’s meant to be out in the world and changing it. 

She startles him, the way she turns so fast her ponytail narrowly misses his bruised face. “It was great what you did. It was kind of fucking stupid. But great.” 

“Thank you?” 

Katara beams impossibly wide. “You’re welcome. What’s your name?” 

Zuko’s giving her a lopsided smile. “You don’t know my name?” 

“Am I supposed to? You know I only keep up with Black Chyna and the lord.” Her wide eyes squint in a smile. His heart thunders, and he somehow feels as though Katara could sense it, with how much bigger her smile gets. 

//

“Welcome to the company single handedly transforming the genetic and biological industry. The future lies within!” The monitor’s voice announces repeatedly, Phoenix Corporation’s recognizable slogan. 

Zuko’s in awe. He wasn’t meant for a world like this, with fancy lab coats and holographic presentations and people with glasses spewing larger than life terms. Hell, the revolving doors got him fucked up! That shit was too advanced for his liking. Science was his _thing_ , but this was entirely out of his league. He donned glasses as an homage to a father he had never known, abandoning him when he was a baby on his Uncle Iroh’s doorstep. A labcoat was handed his way after the intern program directors approved with the badge of some guy named “Lee.” Zuko desperately tries to ignore the pleas of the real Lee coming from the lobby of the building. 

“I swear I have a badge, I swear I’m an intern here!” 

A guard shoves him out the door. “Can it, zit bitch!” 

“I don’t think security guards are supposed to pick at people’s insecurities,” Lee whimpers. 

He’s avoiding eye contact as Katara prattles away, taking the sweaty interns every which way through the company’s headquarters. “And here is Dr. Ozai, who will be discussing his cross elemental genetics project.” 

He’s a formidable man. Tall, broad shoulders. He looks intensely polished, the type of man that always gets his way. The type of man who refuses anything less than what he wants. Zuko can’t help but stare. He looks different from the pictures Zuko found in Iroh’s basement. _Meaner_ . Is this what he will look like in the future? He tries not to think about it too hard. “Does anyone know the history of _the firebenders_ are?” Zuko sees Ozai relishing in the confused faces of the teens, oily foreheads seemingly glistening in the fluorescent lighting. 

“They were-”

Zuko promptly interrupts him. “They were born with the ability to will fire any way they wanted. Legend has it that benders were born with abilities to manipulate all the elements: water, earth, fire, air. These people were invincible.” 

Ozai smirks. A first for him, a student who understood his work. “Yes, all true. But the truly powerful ones were the ones who could firebend. This element is the most destructive, yet can bring beauty all at once.” He pauses to bring a holographic video to the attention of the students. “My goal is to recreate this ability that once came so easily to our ancestors. To bring humankind to be this powerful again. Where nothing will ever get in our way, no illness, no fear. Just us and the elements, joined together once more.” 

As the fellow interns become increasingly enraptured by the presentation detailing his work, Ozai turns to Katara reviewing notes for the rest of the office tour. “Who was that kid?” She couldn’t help but feel pride in her soul. As she turns to introduce him to her mentor, her brows furrow in confusion. He’s nowhere to be found.

//

He hadn’t meant to sneak into the top secret chamber of research, he swears. One minute he’s looking for a bathroom because he downed one too many Fiji waters because they were fancy and he wanted to _feel_ fancy. And then of course he’s distracted by pretty buttons, and of course the rebel in him is able to remember the passcode scientists used to enter this top secret chamber. (The password was “thrussy.”) 

He certainly hadn’t meant to get burned. He hastily climbed into the empty tube to hide himself as security guards routinely checked the room. While trying to unlock the door, of course he just _had_ to trip on his laces, and of course he just _had_ to press some button. Next thing he knew, he was surrounded by rainbow colored flames, engulfing his body. He remembers the last thing he searched on his computer was “what are furries festival” and prays that the police spares that from the report when they investigate his death. 

But, he’s fine. He’s more than fine. He’s fucking _fantastic_ . He’s strong, he has the reflexes of a fucking ninja, and he can conjure fucking _flames_ from his hands. From his hands! 

He practices every night, after the day at Phoenix Corp. He singed his towels, accidentally broke open his medicine cabinet when he reached for his anti depressants, and exploded his Aveeno bedside lotion. There’s an abandoned building near his apartment, and he climbs to the rooftop every night to control his newfound powers. He’s not clumsy, and swears he can rival Tony Hawk with his skateboarding abilities.

But the best part is how agile he’s become. He’s strong, noodle arms now muscular. His baggy shirts like a conscious fashion choice, and not just because they were the cheapest in the Walmart clearance rack. The kids that ignored him and continued to make out in front of his locker without any consequence? Pushed to the ground. The bully targeting petite kings? Basketball shoved firmly into his head. 

“I’m trying my hardest to stop being mean. It’s really not my fault everyone is so fucking stupid.” Zuko petulantly stares at the suspension slip Pakku had written as he waits for Iroh to finish speaking to the principal. Apparently justice has consequences. 

“Zuko!” Katara serious tone is heavily contrasted with laughter. 

“Fine, you caught me. I’ve been ditching therapy to hotbox in the Denny’s parking lot.” 

Katara huffs. “Denny’s? Really, bitch? You couldn’t have chosen, I don’t know, _Target_ at least. Here I thought you were classy.” 

Their collective laughter was interrupted by Iroh’s appearance, anger maring his usually gentle face. “We’ll talk about this later. Zuko, you know better than this. Why did you have to humiliate that boy?” 

“He deserved it!” 

“Enough! I’m have to pick up some later shifts at the tea shop today. Show up for yours today, too.” Zuko senses his uncle has more to say, more to berate him for. He just looks _exhausted_. Defeated. It’s all his damn fault. Iroh swerves to Katara. “He has you on his computer by the way! I’m his parole officer, nice to meet you.” Zuko’s mouth falls open, trying to explain to Katara who is barely holding herself together with how loudly she’s guffawing. 

“I love you,” Iroh says, moving to exit out the school.

“I know.” Zuko starts to move away, before he pauses. “I love you, too.” 

  
  


//

He thought, you get the girl, you get the firebending skills and you get hot and everything is ok. Everything is perfect. The universe has so many ways to fuck up your life, because serenity is just too easy. 

Zuko’s heart clenches, staring at his Uncle’s body. There are tears that promise to slip, but never embark on their journey. A monitor nearby is noisily beeping, a tired nurse pats Zuko gently on the back. He’s becoming a recognizable figure, after all he does visit his Uncle Iroh two times a day. 

_It’s his fault_. 

It’s a thought that becomes permanent in his mind. _It’s his fault_ that he lost track of training himself, and didn’t show up for his shift. _It’s his fault_ that Iroh was running around the whole damn city looking for him. _It’s his fucking fault_ his uncle was beat nearly half to death by robbers. 

He grabs his uncle’s limp hands gently between his own calloused ones. “I’m going to make this right. I’m going to make you proud.” He slips away before he can feel his heart threatens to simply stop, unable to process the infinite pain he feels. 

//

  
  


He glances at his watch nervous for multiple reasons. One, that he was going to miss his shift at the tea shop and get lectured _again_ by June, his neighbor who has graciously taken over running the shop and housing Zuko until Iroh wakes from his coma. Two, that if he stares at the sea prunes any longer without actually eating them, Katara’s grandma would start laughing at him. Three, if Katara’s father kept glaring at him he would combust with how fucking nervous he was. It didn’t help he snuck in through Katara’s window and Hakoda had discovered him watching Tik Toks on her bed. 

The dinner was a bust. Halfway through and he’s already gotten in an argument with the police chief over a certain masked figure. 

“I think his name is The Blue Spirit.” Zuko admits, fighting to hide a smile. 

Hakoda stares down at the boy. “More like Blue Dipshit. He’s destroying the city!” Katara quickly steps in as the argument grows heated, taking Zuko out to her building’s rooftop. 

“Oh my god, you should be glad he didn’t shoot your ass up.” Katara clutches the railing, staring out to the city lights. 

The same city lights he lives by, swears by. He remembers trying to seek out his uncle’s attacker. A man named Zhao notorious for his violent temper and attacks on the city’s elderly. He was able to run into his gaggle of minions on his nights long quest. While they had successfully nearly beat him to a pulp, he swears he’s set a few jackets on fire and managed to outrun them. Even if it meant he had fallen through an unbuilt building, tumbling down six stories before landing in the pits of a former fight club. He saw it then, the Blue Spirit legend. An ancient swordsman who dominated the underground scene. 

He decided he was going to be the best damn superhero the world had seen. Even if it meant wearing an all black leotard every night. He designed it to best complement his firebending, resistant to the heat. The mask he slipped on every night, built to protect both him and his identity. The swords at his back that he’s been training with hours on end. 

  
  


“Are you a cop?” he remembers his uncle’s attacker questioning, his new target blocked by Zuko’s presence. 

“Really? You think a cop is going to be wearing a blue face mask and black spandex?” He doesn’t remember much of that night, anger too palpable and blinding his senses. All he will admit to is leaving him in some police car. Not the bruises littering the bandit’s body. Or his missing pants. 

“I have to tell you something.” He joins Katara at the railing. 

She gasps. “I knew it! You listen to Post Malone unironically.” 

“No, god no. I haven’t hit rock bottom yet to start doing that.” He’s proud of himself for making her laugh. 

“What’s up?” She asks. He can’t back out now. Not when she’s looking at him like he’s the whole world, not when she’s become his whole world. 

“I-I can’t” He stutters, breaking their eye contact. 

She nods in quiet understanding, turning away from him to walk back to her apartment. Zuko sighs, rubbing a hand at his forehead. “ _Fuck.”_

He conjures up a storm of flames to surround Katara. The force was enough to whirl her around and towards him, waiting to catch her in his arms. 

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Katara yelps, before being cut off with the feeling of Zuko’s lips pressed against hers. 

“I just wanted to let you know. I Am. A. God.” He swears, the flames growing steadily from his palms. 

“I’m kind of scared of you right now. Not because of the firebending or anything, just because the amount of testosterone is making me nervous.” She initiates the kiss this time. Her lip gloss tastes sweet, and he keeps kissing her until her lips become chapped. His hands can’t help but roam her body, her hands teasing and finding contact with his toned stomach beneath his hoodie. 

“Are you kidding me!” Sokka calls from the rooftop’s entrance, hands covering his eyes. “I swear to _Spirits above_ Zuko I am not afraid to castrate you right here right now. Katara, get the fuck inside!” 

Zuko blushes. 

// 

  
  


“Katara, you’re so incredibly mature for your age.” Hama insists. 

Katara is beaming. “Thanks, it’s the childhood trauma!” 

The chemistry teacher freezes, looking at the still smiling girl peculiarly. “Um, well. My point is, it’s not worth it. I-I know it’s none of my business. I just see _so much_ of myself in you. Including the mistakes I know you’re going to make. Honey, it’s not worth mixing yourself up with a guy that’s only more trouble than anything else. You’re going to go to the best college in the nation, I just know it. You just can’t afford to lose your focus now. Been there, done that. It’s not worth it.” 

She smiled seemingly understandingly, struggling to keep her mouth shut. If only she knew. 

The Blue Spirit couldn’t fight all the crime in the city alone. As much as Zuko was convinced he was the shit, he really wasn’t. The Blue Spirit couldn’t dare match up to The Painted Lady. 

  
  
  


“You’re The Painted Lady?” Zuko questions, eyes closed in confusion while trying to process all the information. To be fair, he’s only gotten two hours of sleep a night ever since his life as The Blue Spirit began. He’s convinced the police really only sit around and eat donuts. If this was _Law and Order: SVU_ , he just knew Olivia Benson wouldn’t need a masked teenager saving people. He opens his eyes when he begins to feel pulsating water near his wounds, Katara controlling its every movement as it works its way through his wounds. 

After reuniting with his father and become an _official_ intern at Phoenix Corp, he soon realized his father was not as occupied with cross elemental theories. No, he was much more focused on how to resurrect the dragons of the world. The true firebenders, he noted. Zuko had found hidden notes his mother had written before leaving his father. Partners in crime, they were working on their research together. Before his mother had left with the solution, before his father could understand the consequences of his work. Before his father had made himself a subject and injected their concoction into himself, become a half scaled half human hybrid roaming the sewers of the city. 

He had found his father, bitter to no end as he continues producing the serum that was supposed to make the most powerful being on the planet. Zuko was left with gashes in his chest that made him wanted to vomit with how much blood was pouring out. He was left to die in dirty sewage water, his father cackling as he disappeared. Until _she_ showed up. 

The Painted Lady. 

The city’s emblem, etched on coins and dollar bills. He’s heard rumors about her cleaning up the city’s rivers, healing patients doctors long gave up on. Her grandmother had told her their family comes from a long line of waterbenders, the last one born 400 years ago. She had her swear never to reveal her talents, never talk about it, never do anything about it. It was dangerous, the government would want to talk to her. She would disappear, the whole family would be in danger But Katara was never one to listen to directions very well. 

“Did you just fucking slap me?” Zuko is incredulous, clutching his reddening man tit. She’s nearly healed all the cuts on his body at the hands of his father’s claws. The burn from a dragon is more painful than any other, and Katara’s upset. She can’t heal his eye, no matter how hard she tries. 

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it? Be mad?” Katara bites back. She pauses the water disappearing from her hands and back onto the mug on her night stand. “I can’t believe you’re so fucking stupid.” She’s in his lap, clad in only a t shirt. Her hair falls in her eyes as she returns to heal his wounds, and he gingerly brushes the strand out from blocking her. 

“I know.” Zuko couldn’t help but press a kiss to her cheek. 

“Don’t return the sweatpants,” Katara throws out. 

Zuko raises his eyebrow. “Why, doesn’t Sokka want these back?” 

“He says, ‘I don’t want emo butt juice on them,’” Katara shrugs. 

He blows a stray hair from his scarred eye out of frustration. “I consider myself _chic_ punk more than anything else.” 

She pauses again. “What if there’s more of us out there?” Katara uneasily peers up at his questioning stare. “More benders?” 

Even with all the tests and insistence Ozai had for recreating this power, Zuko had been the only successful case. The only person to fully exhibit the power of his ancestors. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t they need to go through some sort of freak accident like I did?” 

“What if your power was suppressed this whole time?” 

He contemplates the idea, hands rubbing up and down her waist. 

“I think my grandma used to say something like ‘One queef and this whole building could tumble down.’”

He is glaring at her quizzically. “No I don’t think that’s right. What does that even mean?” 

“It means, life as we know it will change forever. If we find other benders to defeat your father. If we expose what bending is. Hell, the city still thinks you use jetpacks to propel yourself around the city.” 

He pecks chastely at her lips. She hates how easily she’s able to relax when he kisses away her worries. “You know, I used to think if I had a boyfriend I would simply go beat pedophiles to death with him as a hobby. I don’t know whether or not to be delighted this has come true.” 

“As long as The Blue Spirit always has The Painted Lady. Everything will be alright.” 

“You promise?” 

“You rise with moon. He does, too.” Zuko’s staring at the mask in his hand. His other hand firmly around Katara’s. 

**Author's Note:**

> hfdoispafhdoipafidpsa anyways I used to be obsessed with The Amazing Spiderman when it first came out like I remember seeing it in theaters and crying because I loved Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield. Back when we didn’t know Emma Stone was a racist omg! My Asian queen <3 


End file.
